CHAPTER VIII.
ESTHER AND HER CHILDREN.
Esther Ansell did not welcome Levi Jacobs warmly.

She had just cleared away the breakfast things and was looking forward to a glorious day's reading, and the advent of a visitor did not gratify her.

And yet Levi Jacobs was a good-looking boy with brown hair and eyes, a dark glowing complexion and ruddy lips--a sort of reduced masculine edition of Hannah.
"I've come to play I-spy-I, Solomon," he said when he entered "My, don't you live high up!" "I thought you had to go to school," Solomon observed with a stare.
"Ours isn't a board school," Levi explained.

"You might introduce a fellow to your sister." "Garn! You know Esther right enough," said Solomon and began to whistle carelessly.
"How are you, Esther ?" said Levi awkwardly.
"I'm very well, thank you," said Esther, looking up from a little brown-covered book and looking down at it again.
She was crouching on the fender trying to get some warmth at the little fire extracted from Reb Shemuel's half-crown.

December continued gray; the room was dim and a spurt of flame played on her pale earnest face.
It was a face that never lost a certain ardency of color even at its palest: the hair was dark and abundant, the eyes were large and thoughtful, the nose slightly aquiline and the whole cast of the features betrayed the Polish origin.